A career in flying takes off for many

Erin Osmon, SPECIAL TO THE TRIBUNECHICAGO TRIBUNE

Editor's note: This is one of those times when many people are changing jobs, whether they like it or not. Erin Osmon has been there too and in the process went in a completely different direction -- several directions, in fact.

After three major moves and five jobs, I was just 25 and already a burned-out community college teacher whose idealism had sunk into the pitfalls of educational bureaucracy. I was dirt poor and felt stuck in Baltimore, far from my Midwestern roots.

Though my wanderlust seemed attractive early on, pairing well with a mission to save the world, by now I was ready to do anything that didn't involve proving a point or having my car stolen for the third time.

My roommate was a flight attendant, and flying seemed like the perfect solution: Travel and get paid for it. After snagging a recommendation from my roommate, I was called for an extensive background check and the most grueling interview I'd ever experienced. I passed and packed my bags for flight-attendant training.

It was there that I found that I wasn't the only burned-out professional to have thought of this. A few of my training classmates were recent college graduates but, to my surprise, even more were established professionals seeking a change. Many were retirement age.

I met Bill, the retired ad man from Louisville, and Wendy, who had been the executive assistant to the president of a Major League Baseball team. There was a retired Amy officer and an ex-cop from New York. Many had family members already working for the airline.

Chicago native Arnie Cogan, a former senior executive, made the jump to flight attendant eight years ago. Cogan traded in a 25-year career and took a major pay cut to fly. "The stress eventually gets to you," he said. He owned a home in Arizona and knew he wanted to move there eventually. Flying was one way to do it.

After a year and a half in flight, Cogan became a supervisor with Southwest Airlines in Phoenix, where he now lives. "I get a chance to work with some of the executives and some of the directors. Even though it's a large corporation, they still run the business like a family."

During my time as a stew (I lasted only a year), I could wake in the morning, decide I wanted to see the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles and be there six hours later. For free.

I did some freelance writing, read more books than ever and visited almost every state.

But there was the work: three or four days of hard labor and neurotic passengers. Unlike with Arnie, the people were my least favorite part of the lifestyle -- a sure sign I was not a lifer.

In a field where just 50 years ago men were forbidden and women were forced to retire at 32, it amazes me that so many are now choosing it as a second or third career. So the next time a gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair mixes an airplane bloody mary for you, remember that he's far more than a beverage peddler. He may well have an MBA.